


Skyhawks in Summer

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [225]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 02:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4503972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summertime on campus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skyhawks in Summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kyuuketsukirui](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyuuketsukirui/gifts).



> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Emila-Wan and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting to the Master Apprentice ML  
> Travis for posting to the Master Apprentice Archive on AO3  
> Alex for inspiring Arcadia 
> 
> References:  
> [Holiday Road - Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holiday_Road)  
> [Sloop John B - Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sloop_John_B)

Quinn's summer-long hair threw off droplets of water as he climbed up the ladder of the Olympic-sized pool at the Luke Athletic Center. The Center was also home to the gymnasium where Ian's Skyhawks team practiced and held meets. During these hot summer days, the professors would meet at the pool when Ian had finished coaching for the afternoon.

It was a lazy Wednesday in early August, after classes had ended for the day, and Quinn had done more of the research for his joint paper with Ian on Gandalf and his differing relationships with Bilbo and Frodo Baggins. The air conditioning was particularly intense in the manuscript room, but as soon as he'd strolled outside, he felt as if he were on Mos Espa at noontime. He had looked at his watch and headed to his locker at the Athletic Center.

Ian had joined him in the pool a few minutes later, dressed in the sky-blue trunks Quinn had bought him during a Father's Day sale this past June. They'd swum laps first -- business before pleasure -- then switched sections from the lap lanes to the general swim area, where they'd horsed around like a couple of undergraduates.

Ian got a peek of his husband in only sea-green trunks and aqua shoes as he came out of the pool after him. A tantalizing glimpse of glistening arms, chest, stomach, and legs -- a muscular delight, which made Ian glad that he had just cooled off in the bracing water. Then Quinn quickly enveloped himself in two huge Luke 'Sea'hawks swim-team towels -- draping one towel over his head and wrapping the other one around himself -- covering him from shoulders to thighs. At least Quinn's well-toned calves were still on delicious display to Ian's keen gaze.

Waving to a few of their acquaintances, they walked to the locker room; they each had their own designated locker, available to faculty members for a yearly fee. They dropped their wet towels in a huge hamper, then used the facilities. There were ten shower stalls along the opposite wall; no adjacent ones were available, so they headed in opposite directions with fresh towels. Soap and shampoo were provided in each stall.

Quinn smiled while he soaped himself with a miniature Irish Spring bar, sniffing the air as the smell of chlorine was slowly replaced by the invigorating scent of the soap. He began to hum "Holiday Road" in sheer exuberance. Here they were in high summer, with four wonderful weeks to go before classes started in September. Ian and he had just published "A Bag-End Summertime" in the MLA Journal, which was a fanciful extrapolation of the possible seasonal rituals of Bilbo and Frodo Baggins, based on research they had done on Hobbiton, from the glosses of Tolkien's son Christopher.

By the time he started washing his hair with Prell, Quinn had segued to humming "Sloop John B." He rinsed off, taking a bit of extra time to be sure to get the shampoo out of his shaggy hair. Oh, how he loved these summer days when he could just let his hair grow out, and how Ian loved them, too. Many a time, he woke up in the morning with his laddie's fingers gliding through the strands, bright blue-green eyes smiling into his own.

When he finished his ablutions, Quinn walked over to his locker to find that Ian was already dressed and sitting on the bench, lacing up his sneakers. Thankful that Ian's attention was on his shoes, he quickly changed into fresh clothing himself so they could head out to the student center for a snack. Luckily, they were still cool from the swim and shower when they went out into the heat.

Something about summertime made Quinn loosen up, and he swung his arm over Ian's shoulder, where it belonged. Ian grinned up at him in delight; he loved having a rested, relaxed Quinn by his side. Curling his arm around Quinn's waist, Ian basked in the dappled sunlight as they walked to the LSC using the wooded path by Luke Lake, with an occasional wave for one of their colleagues or students.

"Uh-oh," Ian said, when he read a poster on the door of the student center.

The poster let them know that this Friday was Orientation Day for incoming First-Years. The translation -- the campus would be overrun by hordes of youngsters, who needed guidance on everything from how to use their meal-cards to the textbook-return policy.

"Let's work from home on Friday," Quinn said quickly. "Who wants to wait on line at Billaba's for an hour, just to grab lunch?"

"Thank the Force for telecommuting," said Ian with relief.

Luckily, there were relatively few students waiting to be served at the food court, since it was between lunch and dinner. They strolled along the food court, looking for something to tempt them.

Frozen yogurt won the day for their choice of snack, even with stiff competition from Quinn's favorite raspberry iced tea at Rissian's. A new store called Icehawks had just opened this summer and quickly became one of their staples. They scanned the list of flavors, looking for their favorites. Ian ordered a scoop of coconut yogurt, covered with a drizzle of blackberry sauce, while Quinn chose two scoops of banana yogurt, dotted with chopped pecans.

After a couple of minutes of high-level negotiations, while their treats were being prepared, they decided to eat them at one of the booths in the food court. Even though they'd have privacy in their office, their frozen yogurt would melt on the way back, what with the heat, humidity, and harsh sunshine. Ian paid for their snack with a grin, and they headed over to a corner booth, grateful that summertime meant they had their pick of seating, thanks to much fewer students taking classes now than during the semester.

"Boy, that was an invigorating swim," said Ian as he settled on the bench. "So nice to use the pool here when we can't make it to Northland before it closes, especially on these real scorchers."

"The hotter it is, the better the water feels, lad," Quinn said, then took his first bite of banana bliss.

"You're the poster boy for 'the power of positive thinking'," Ian said with a grin.

Quinn chuckled. "And you have Jedi telepathy, my love. C'mon, tell me what I'm going to say next."

Ian drawled, "Perhaps something about your focus determining your reality."

"Oh, ho! I can see my advanced lessons are really paying off, boyo." Quinn flicked his spoon with a flourish.

"That they are, my Master," Ian said quietly, although there was no one near them, another advantage of eating at the student center in the summertime.

A little smile played over Quinn's lips, just as it seemed to do each time Ian called him 'Master'. "Well, you certainly are the perfect 'Prentice' for me." Ian's peal of laughter made Quinn's smile deepen; it was one of his favorite sounds in the galaxy.

For his part, Ian loved it when something he did brought out Quinn's crinkles. If they were in their office, Ian wouldn't have been able to resist a kiss any longer.

When they'd finished their frozen yogurt, they threw away their trash and used the facilities. Unsurprisingly, there were less men in the restroom than usual, an additional summertime perk they had another month to take advantage of. They stopped by the convenience store to buy a couple of liter bottles of Evian to take back to the office with them. Refreshments would make it easier to get through the committee work they wanted to catch up on during these dog days of summer.

They both held a bottle to their foreheads as they walked to Taton Hall, savoring the coolness and condensation on their skin. Keeping to the shady side of the quad, they managed not to get overheated on the way there. The second-floor hallway was quieter than usual; Evan and Ethan were telecommuting today, just like Quinn and Ian planned to do on Orientation Friday.

Ian unlocked their office door, and Quinn went in ahead to turn on the lights and ceiling fan. The fan plus the air conditioning kicking in cooled them down fast. When Ian grabbed a copy of "The Door into Fire" from his bookshelf, he saw Lelia and Quinn smiling at him from their photo on the bulletin board. Ian had taken the picture last week at the Northland Pool in Alder Run. Amazing to see how quickly Lelia was growing; she already was up to Quinn's lower chest in height.

When Ian turned around and dropped the book on his desk, Quinn tossed him an Evian bottle with a crooked grin. "Here's somethin' for you, me boyo."

Ian grinned back insouciantly. "Mmmmm. Plenty to enjoy."

Answering with a wink, Quinn sat down at his desk with his own bottle of water. He opened his laptop and called up his files for the Scheduling Committee. Last semester, he and Ian had both had 8 am classes; when their department chair, Case Wynn, realized this, he'd given them a break in the upcoming term. This coming fall semester, their first classes started at 10:20.

Quinn was finalizing the schedule now, after letting his colleagues know their assignments a few weeks ago. There had been last-minute changes, as always, and tinkering to be done with class sizes and available rooms. So he set to it, fortified by his Evian.

Ian had his own committee work to do; the next meeting of the Textbook Committee for the spring semester was in one week, and he had to submit his top three choices for the Literary Ghost Stories course. His tentative list included "The Turn of the Screw" by Henry James; Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad" by M.R. James; "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" by Washington Irving. Ian hoped he would be assigned to teach this course, although he wished it had been offered in the autumn semester to take full advantage of Halloween.

After almost two hours of working, the men looked up at each other, as if a timer had just gone off. Not surprising, since their internal sense of time was in sync, just like a Master and Padawan pair should be. Their water was finished; their work for the day was done.

Quinn scored two points when he threw his Evian bottle into the blue recycling bin; Ian scored three because he was farther away from the bin. They cheered their baskets, and Quinn got up to lean against Ian's desk. In their shorts, they looked like they were ready to play a pick-up game of basketball. Quinn, of course, would have a towering advantage.

And Ian clearly appreciated his towering height; his eyes became intensely green as they roamed over all 6'4" of his own personal Jedi Master. He loved the casual way Quinn relaxed into the cherrywood, looking like he could stay there all day. He loved the look in his husband's eye which said that playtime's on its way soon.

Quinn noticed Ian's avid gaze and returned it with interest. His laddie was slouched in his chair, hair at its Padawan best, bristling up like the quills of a baby porcupine, after Ian had hand-combed it in the gym. Quinn reached a hand over to propel Ian out of his chair.

When Ian stood up, he naturally pressed into Quinn and cuddled into his arms. He reached up for a quick kiss, then forced himself to move a step away. Even though it was August, the office was still the office, so getting frisky was not an option.

The grateful smile Quinn gave him confirmed that Ian had made the right decision. You'd think it would get easier to keep his hands off of his herven after twelve years, but it hadn't for either one of them. Of course, this was wonderful in its own way.

They headed home, ready for playing with their puppies, some cuddle-time on the couch, and Jo's leftover spinach lasagna.

What could be better for two Skyhawks in the summertime?


End file.
